Therese Gramercy . . . the girl named Trees

Flowers above a window with hospital outside in background

The Surgeon's Days

Life force unbound. Time tightly wound.

One day, I was just so honored that I was accepted, that it was no longer just pretend.
One day, I felt so excited about my accomplishment that I thought that feeling could never end.
One day, I observed proudly that my life in its actuality was everything that I had so carefully planned.

Life runs aground. Time beats me down.

One day, I felt so angered by a call that I fought the urge to scream while stomping down the hall.
One day, I was so tired that my lone wish was for sleep — just to stand still and lean back against a wall.
One day, I left feeling so dejected and small that I truly thought that I might never come back … at all.

Life spins back around. Time heals my frown.

One day, I was handed a cup of hot coffee to help me endure one of the most sorrowful days.
One day, I was given the gift of a smile with the gentle opening of a door, then a long soulful gaze.
One day, I heard the sweetest, most humble thank you and it shattered the shell of my personal haze.

Life purpose is found. Time opens my crown.

One day, I knew that all of the ingredients were in place to complete the recipe of my personal beliefs.
One day, I viewed the forest serenely from above — even from my stance low among the trees.
One day, I felt that I was “at one” with all the ways life must be tested and bested to have peace.

Life mysteries abound. Time spirals up now.

One day, I gazed soulfully, opened doors ever so gently, and smiled at everyone I’d see.
One day, I held the hand of my patient tenderly as they moved forward to a new life unseen.
One day, I realized that I had witnessed more miracles than I had ever thought there could be.

Life joyful and proud. Time illusion found.

One day, I moved along with life’s zigzags just so I could see the divine design that they would weave.
One day, I reflected at last on all the days that had passed, and that brought forth a sweet little dream,
One day, a poem about a surgeon’s days was to be and shed its soft light on days such as these.